


Desolate as Winter

by Niki



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mass Effect 2 AU, Presumed Dead, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niki/pseuds/Niki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Shepard didn't die in the crash. But if no one comes looking for him soon, that only prolongs the pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desolate as Winter

**Author's Note:**

> For hc_bingo's February Challenge, prompts: grief, loss of possessions, stranded/survival scenario, plane crash
> 
> I ran out of February, so it's a little less polished than I wanted to, and there's less detail about the mourning process and Shepard's everyday life than I meant. 
> 
> Title from Jonathan A. Glenn's translation of the Old English poem _the Wanderer_.

Shepard's dead. 

Shepard's dead.

 _John_ is dead. 

“I'm telling you, he could have made it to the last evac shuttle!” Joker is trying to tell the captain of the ship that saved them but she shakes her head with an apologetic look on her face. 

“It doesn't make a difference,” she says, gently. “There was no signal. Even if he did... the pod didn't make it. I'm sorry.”

Kaidan still has his helmet on. He can't take it off. He can't meet anyone's eyes without the protection of the visor. He knows that if he does, he will cry. And if he starts, he will not stop. 

As soon as the shock wears off, he's not going to be able to prevent or postpone it, he knows. But for now he can – must – not break.

Shepard is dead. 

It's so stupid, after surviving the streets, after living through Elysium, after saving the whole damn universe... this is how he goes. An attack out of nowhere, with no chance to protect themselves, getting sucked out into the coldness of space... or crashing down on the planet with the remains of his ship, if Joker's futile hope came through...

It's unfair. 

* * *

Shepard wakes up, gasping. 

Everything hurts, so much so that even breathing seems to jostle his body's multiple hurts. 

A few careful breaths and the pain localises on his left shoulder, a stabbing, nauseating pain, pulsing and spreading and damn it he has dislocated his shoulder. 

Without thought, he applies the emergency medigel stored in his armour, and the pain dulls, almost instantly. He can take a deep breath, and another, and after a few seconds of breathing he moves, gingerly.

It's dark, and he gropes for his rifle and its flash light with his right hand.

Memory returns. The attack on the Normandy, the ship breaking apart around him. Kaidan, directed safely to the escape shuttle. Joker... Joker, also in an escape pod and then... Then a hit on his back from a falling piece of his ship, hitting the button to launch Joker's pod, stumbling towards the last pod... Then nothing. 

He's in the pod. He hadn't managed to strap in properly. He'll be bruised as hell but lucky if he walks away with only a dislocated shoulder. 

Well, time to fix that. 

He grabs the metal beam to which the harness is attached tightly with his hand, and without giving himself time to think about it, wrenches. He doesn't even try to stop the scream as the bones resettle, the pain burning bright for a moment, then dulling back down. 

He rests the arm on his lap and uses his right to tap in commands to his omnitool. He's on the ground, that much he knows – the pod isn't moving. And with no light, it means... It means no power. Which means no beacon to tell the rescue ships his location. 

They were orbiting Alchera when the ship was taken out. Could he be down on the planet? How did he manage that if the pod was out of commission? Or had the landing damaged it? 

There are no life signs on his radar. 

Only one way to find answers. But Alchera's atmosphere is methane and ammonia and he has no way of checking if his suit is still air tight. And if the pod is out of power, it also means it isn't producing air.

This could be a very short exploration trip, Shepard acknowledges, then shelves the idea and stands up, releasing his legs from the safety harness he is half wearing. 

His left arm still out of commission, he changes to a pistol, and tries the opening mechanism on the door.

It's light outside, at least. The ground is covered in white snow, and the sky is bright with blue and green aurorae. Maybe he's close to the pole, then. 

Aurora always reminds him of home, when he was a kid, before his dad died... Foxfire, he'd called it, in his own language, long forgotten by Shepard. Shepard had a stuffed fox, and he had always liked picturing it running in the snow, sky covered with fire from its paws. 

The toy was long gone, his dad dead, and the orphanage destroyed by very real fire, decades ago.

Shepard shakes his head, disconcerted by his inattention, and looks around him. 

Dark shapes around him, like scars in the whiteness of the snow. To his horror he realises it is his ship. His beautiful Normandy, in pieces around him. 

It must have slowed down considerably before hitting the ground, there's so much debris it must mean most of the ship is above ground. The pieces are huge, too. His escape pod... had it still been attached to the ship when they crashed? Was that how he had survived on a lifeless pod? 

But that might mean it could still be powered up – it would offer shelter, and even more importantly, oxygen.

It's obvious he'll have to find some way to survive until the rescue party arrives. The silence of the scene is eerie, lonely. Only the wind to remind him he can still hear. There's no movement besides the slowly falling snow.

Has everyone else made it? Have they been picked up? Or are they still floating in space, or landed on some other part of the planet? There's no way of knowing that. No way of knowing if they have been rescued, or picked up by the enemy ship. No way of knowing if someone has already been down here and somehow missed him.

Would he even dare to try to activate the distress signal in the pod? Or is the enemy ship still out there?

No way of knowing that, either. 

He takes a few careful steps in the snow. He can breathe and the armour moves normally with his movements. He tightens his grip on the pistol, and resolutely heads towards the farthest pieces of debris he can see to establish a perimeter. 

He needs to see if anyone else survived. He needs to scout the area. He needs to assess his situation and find out what resources he has. Then he can make more informed decisions. 

It's not the first time he's had to survive alone. The even train for the very scenario in Rio. He'll be fine. 

He can survive until someone comes looking.

* * *

They only had such a short time together. 

Kaidan can't even tell anyone. Can't show that his grief is deeper than just soldier's who's lost his CO. A marine who's lost a team mate. 

Jenkins hurt. Ash hurt even more. But he didn't go to pieces over their loss. 

But to live without John...

He knew the man was dangerous from the moment he first saw him. Shepard seemed to radiate an aura of competence around him. Charming but no-nonsense, dedicated but quick to see the humour in any given situation. Driven but not blinded by it.

He never realised his regard was not one-sided until he asked, confused, whether Shepard made a habit of getting as personal with all his crew mates. He hadn't smiled, hadn't made a joke of it, when he told Kaidan no. No, he didn't. And then he left him to puzzle out what he had meant with that. 

Kaidan kept telling himself it was friendship they were building. Every conversation about their pasts, every shared glance during a mission, every shared smile... He must have been blind. Even if wilfully so, the fraternisation regulations tying his hands, his mouth, even if their mission was unlike anything he had ever experienced during his service years, the presence of so many aliens, Shepard's status as the Council operative making it seem less and less like normal...

It all had to come crashing down for them to... There had been the moment, by the lockers, the first time Kaidan had seen Shepard outwardly show any signs of the stress he had to have been feeling for far longer than just then, being grounded by the Alliance, by the Council, just making it all boil over. 

Seeing the desperation turn to cold fire of determination, hearing him declare he was going to do something, dammit... And then, when he was helping him up, the momentary loss of balance, the slight leaning towards each other, the almost-kiss. 

If not for Joker's timely interruption, they would have kissed in the common area of the Normandy, right next to the mess, where anyone could have walked by, and he hadn't cared. All he had thought about was making Shepard feel better. And of finally getting a confirmation that they were truly on the same page here, both heading for something other than friendship, even if it had to be shelved until After. 

They hadn't. Shelved it. After they stole the Normandy and were en route to Ilos Kaidan had seen the pressure Shepard was trying to deal with and had wanted to do... something. He sincerely hadn't even expected a kiss the evening he knocked on the Commander's door. Not even if his lips were tingling with the almost-kiss of earlier. All he wanted was to offer some words of... confirmation. On the mission. To tell him what an honour it had been to serve under him.

And Shepard had chosen that moment to deploy that wicked sense of humour of his. “I don't think I've had the pleasure of you serving under me. Don't you think it's time to rectify that?”

Kaidan had grinned back but then Shepard had turned serious again, and... it had been all too real, all too fast. 

He can still remember, word to word, what he said. “I think about losing you and I can't stand it.” 

Would this be easier if they hadn't...

“Kaidan, you make me feel I could take on the universe. And right now? I kind of have to.”

They had had one night to get to know each other's bodies, to try to get the kissing and touching out of their systems before they had to go be professional again, be just two soldiers, two marines, serving together, trying to survive an impossible mission... and they had. 

They had lived. They had won. They had left for their brief leaves separately, and met up in a hotel room they did not then leave again until they were called back to duty, two days early. Again they separated, to not arrive back at the same time.

The days they spent on the Normandy before... before Alchera, they were so careful not to be anything but friendly. Joker probably knew Kaidan sneaked into the captain's cabin every night, though. 

If he didn't, Shepard cornered him in some dark corner and... yeah, okay, they were in the honeymoon phase, it was bad enough they had to hide it, if they couldn't touch, couldn't kiss, couldn't talk openly, they probably would have slipped one day.

They had talked about the future, of course. About how they couldn't go on like that, the risk was too high, and Kaidan wasn't going to be the reason the Galactic hero lost his commission. But they didn't want to serve separately, either. 

“It won't always be like this. I know I can't keep the Normandy for good. And you deserve a promotion. When you make Commander, there's no way we can keep serving together, not like this. So... then...“ Shepard had sounded uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Then,” Kaidan repeated, and he made it a promise. They both knew what it meant. 

* * *

All Shepard finds are broken bodies, precious little left of his crew. He collects all the dog tags he finds. “Proof of death” they'd called them, in basic training. The tags would survive anything, most likely be the last thing anyone ever saw of them.

Shepard has seen death, death of family, friends, fellow soldiers, civilians, enemies, but somehow this lonely crash site is the worst he has ever seen. 

Maybe 'lonely' is the key to that.

He hangs the tags from his neck, lacking a better way to store them. Each name hits him like a punch to the stomach, and yet... yet, there's thankfulness, too. Not Kaidan. Each name that he sees that is not Kaidan fills him with hope. 

Kaidan made it to a pod. He escaped. He survived. He has to be alive. That's the one thing he latches on to. 

Long stretches of the ship are in tact. The side, with the name boldly on it. Corridors... This housed the lockers, the sleeper pods were there, and... And he's standing on the spot where he almost kissed Kaidan for the first time. For a second, he misses the man so much it feels as intense as the pain waking up. 

He pushes it away. That means med bay is behind him. There might be medigel there that survived the landing. Purified water. Blankets. 

The mess has a water tank that still holds water. The storage area a broken crate filled with field rations. He won't starve. 

He rips a hanging bit of wire and fashions a sling to hold his left arm immovable against his side. 

There are lights here and there. It means there's still some power, somewhere. He wishes he was a better mechanic, wishing for anyone who is – Kaidan, Tali, Adams... someone who might be able to coax that power out, to make it do something useful. Rig a radio, maybe. A distress signal. 

His cabin is gone. 

All his belongings are gone – again. It's not like he owned much, but he'd had a holo of his father, his carefully guarded stash of chocolate, the sweater he had been given by a civilian, after Elysium, which he always wore off duty when he felt lonely. 

He hadn't had to wear it much, after Kaidan... and Kaidan had looked good in it. 

He'd had a few books, some old favourites he carried around with him, from ship to ship, commission to commission. 

He's lost everything before, of course. When he lost his father, when the orphanage burnt down... in the streets you didn't collect belongings... And you travel light while in service, especially if you don't have a home to go to. 

He'd looked forward to gaining that home base with Kaidan. A place, theirs, where they could go to in between assignments, maybe. Where he could grow roots, leave things behind, knowing they would be there when he comes back, no matter how much later that was. 

He hoped he could salvage something from the cabin... a fragment of a bed, anything, a tangible reminder of the room that became so much more than just the place where he slept. A shared place, somewhere where they could be Kaidan and John, not Lieutenant Alenko and his commanding officer.

Foolish sentiment. The only thing important or useful now would be the stash of chocolate or bedding from the bed.

He finds a pad on the ground, still somewhat functioning. It's Pressly's diary, he realises after deciphering some of the blinking text. Pressly was among the dead, he saw him on the deck when going for Joker, even though he hasn't found any remains on the planet. Besides the pad. Still, he's not around to mind. And it will give Shepard something to read.

All in all, he has found eighteen dog tags. Eighteen crew members, sharing this tomb, this grim memorial of the once great ship.

But more importantly, he found the Mako. Wedged deep into the ground it would be next to impossible to make it move... but it's in tact. The sturdy little machine is fully functional despite its little plunge down on the planet. And that means air, it means warmth, it means a place to stay – to survive, for days, maybe weeks, if it can extract oxygen from the planet's atmosphere. 

He also discovers the pod still has power, which also means a few days' worth of oxygen, or power to the distress beacon. Since his suit comm is only short range, he chooses to risk activating it. He can't believe anyone would leave all the dead down on the planet for long – the Alliance doesn't leave anyone behind – but with the enemy ship out there... He might need to give them an incentive to arrive sooner.

Now all he can do is wait. 

Hope Pressly was a prolific writer. 

* * * 

Kaidan dreams about Shepard a lot. It's bad, dreaming about him alive, having to wake up and remember he's dead. But it might be even worse dreaming about him dying, waking up to the relief it was only a dream to then remember Shepard is gone for real. 

Sometimes he dreams about him, going about his life like normal, even though he's dead – kind of like a benign undead. 

Death isn't a stranger to any soldier, even if Kaidan had never lost a man under his command before their mission. But this... 21 dead, bodies crushed on the surface of Alchera... 21 people whose names he knew, whose food of choice he could probably list, 21 with whom he had shared the heat of battle as well as the ephemeral peace of downtime. 

He has to keep reminding himself of what it means... to try to grasp the magnitude of the change. He'll never hear Shepard's voice again, his room-conquering presence will never be felt again, the person that was is no more. 

He'll never see his smile, feel his fingers running lightly over his lips, hear the wicked laughter he only let loose in the privacy of the Normandy.

It's still hard to grasp. He keeps expecting to see him, hear him, and the realisation that he won't, _ever_ , is too much. 

They are all on leave, following the destruction of the ship. For some, it's medical leave. For others... It affected them all, even if Kaidan feels like he is the one most affected. The others lost comrades, friends, fellow soldiers... He lost his future. 

He doesn't know how he can return to work. He has no control over his emotions. He cries, sadness and loneliness crushing him; he rages, anger boiling uncontrollably until he's glowing blue and threatening the structural integrity of his rooms.

Some days he doesn't get out of bed. Some days he can't stay in. Some days he can't bear to see anyone. Some days he contacts Liara and they listen to each other breathe, united in shared grief. 

Liara understands in a way no one else does. 

Garrus has to return back to the Citadel, to C-Sec. Tali stays as long as she dares but her Pilgrimage is over, she has to go home. She hugs Kaidan close before she leaves. Maybe she understands, too. 

Maybe they all knew, or at least know now, the quality of his grief out of proportion compared to others. 

He has to talk to someone, or he will implode. 

Well, actually, he has to talk to someone if he ever wants to return to duty anyway. Having a ship blown to pieces around you is traumatic for anyone. They all need to pass psych evals if they want to serve.

The shrink reminds him of Doctor Chakwas. A no-nonsense woman in her forties or fifties, with a firm handshake and emphatic eyes. Maybe that's what makes his mind up for him to be honest. 

“We were going to get married,” he says, quietly, and the doctor looks up from her notes. 

“Your fiancée was on the ship?” she asks, glancing down. “There is no mention...”

“We couldn't tell anyone. We met on the Normandy... it would have been...”

“Ah, the wonderful fraternisation regulations. How do the brass think people survive on long missions? They forge bonds. There's nothing wrong with the way you felt.”

It feels good to hear that, on some abstract level where anything can feel good at the moment. 

“We had to be so careful...” he says, choking on the words, the memories flooding his mind again. “John being in charge.”

“John... Shepard? Commander Shepard?”

He succeeded in surprising her at last. 

“We knew... we couldn't go on like that for long... I would get promoted, he would get promoted... maybe had to go do Spectre missions... The best way to stay together was to be married. We never even mentioned the word aloud. But we both knew...”

“It's a wonderful thing to be so close to someone you can communicate so well.”

“And now he's gone.”

“So you didn't just lose friends and crew members... Lieutenant Alenko, this changes the situation. I fear I cannot clear you to duty until meeting with you for a few more times, to see how you are coping with the situation.”

“I'm not. Coping. So... I'm not fit for duty anyway.”

“That's what I'm for,” she says. “To help you cope.”

“I'm finding it hard to remember it's real. Still. I haven't been able to... let go. The hope, I suppose. The idea of the future. I haven't been able to say goodbye.”

“The funeral usually helps in that. A memorial service. Do you know if the Alliance is planning one for the missing crew?”

“No one's told me anything. I asked Anderson when he called... right after. He said he'd let me know. I thought... it would be sooner. Tali, Garrus, Wrex and Liara are all gone now.”

“The alien crew members.”

“The alien... yeah, everyone who wasn't Alliance.”

“Why would it take so long?”

“The enemy vessel might still be in the vicinity.”

“Pardon?”

“In the star system where we were attacked.”

“But can't they hold the ceremony here?”

“You are not Alliance, are you? We left 21 soldiers in that corner of space. Dead or alive, we will bring them home.”

* * *

Reading about Pressly's change of heart about the aliens on board is heart-warming. Of course Tali was the one to get through to him first. It gives Shepard hope that the rest of the humanity will follow suit as co-operation with different species becomes more common. 

Who knows, given enough time, maybe even Ashley would have gotten over her prejudice. 

Unfortunately the diary only amuses him for a few days. The only other pad he finds in any condition is from the med bay and it flashes Chakwas' last order endlessly. Shepard is pretty sure he can recite it by heart.

All their notes, all the work they did on those prothean discs, alien ruins... well, there would be back-ups, so the knowledge isn't lost, but it's lost to him, and he's slowly going crazy. He can't risk using his omnitool much, and it isn't like there are satellites anywhere near to allow him to connect to Extranet. It would be handy to just be able to message someone to come get him.

Maybe if he was better at mechanical stuff he could get the ship's long distance communicators to work. But he isn't, and it isn't very helpful to wish he was.

* * * 

Kaidan wakes up from a nap to the sound of his comm unit. He sleeps most of his days now, too listless to do much else. The doc has started talking about medication for the depression but he resists. 

He doesn't like drugs. He's had to suffer through enough with the migraines, and every single doctor wanting to try their own pet cures for it. 

He runs his hand through his hair out of habit, and checks that he actually has a shirt on before answering. 

It's Anderson.

“I'm sorry it has taken us this long,” he says, after they exchange greetings. “But we have finally managed to get the brass to agree to a small scale mission to Alchera.”

“Sir.”

“I hear you are still off duty. Are you up to joining me to get our boys and girls back home?”

“Yes, sir!”

* * * 

Shepard goes out every day, just to keep moving, and has found two more pairs of dog tags, bringing the total up to twenty. 

Twenty soldiers sharing this part of Alchera with him. 

There's been no sign of anyone living. No animal life on Alchera, no enemy troops looking for him, and no rescue party. He doesn't know how long his pod can transmit its signal, or if it even still does. 

He doesn't know how long the Mako can keep him alive. He's desperately grateful for the crate of rations he found but he never ever ever wants to taste their cardboard taste again.

He's spent hours, staring at the side of the Normandy, coming up with words one can make from the name (randy, Mandy, Andy, or, Norma, Thor, end, hand, arm, harm, tenor, handy, more, tad, mad, man, nor, norm, and, ram...), staring at the sky, trying to remember his father's voice when he talked about the aurora.

He's even lain awake for hours at night, trying to project his thoughts to contact Kaidan. Sudden onset telepathy seems to be his only way out. It sounds as likely as a rescue party arriving after all this time.

Yet he lingers. He survives. He doesn't really believe someone is going to come anymore, but... he survives. Day after day after day. Because the alternative is something he refuses to contemplate. 

He could go explore the planet, of course. But what would that be but another way to commit suicide.

* * *

There are not many of them, the Alliance not ready to risk another offensive in the system. They are equipped for speed. Kaidan and Adams are representing the crew. Chakwas arrived on the Citadel just in time to be included in the party. Joker is flying, and Kaidan asks him about the grounding.

“Like I would let anyone else fly this mission,” he says, light years from his usual light tone. “Anderson may have told some people to stuff their grounding orders where the sun doesn't shine,” he explains, some of his old humour returning.

“At least I didn't need to punch Udina this time,” Anderson's voice says from behind them.

“Sir.”

“Might be a good thing, him being a Council member and all these days,” Joker says.

“Just glad it's him and not me,” Anderson says quietly.

“I thought Shepard would recommend you.”

“I'm glad he didn't.”

“But did he recommend Udina, then?” Joker asks.

“Oh no,” Kaidan replies, smiling slightly. “John told the Council politics were for other people. He was going to go hunt for Reapers, thank you very much.”

Jokers laughs at that, and Kaidan can feel the smile staying on his face. It feels weird, painful almost. He hasn't had much reason to smile lately. 

He almost runs his hand through his hair but remembers in time that he actually had it cut and has gelled it off from his face again – also something he hasn't done much lately. He almost looks like himself again but his dress uniform hangs around his frame after all the weight he's lost. 

He has to work to get back in shape after they get back. 

They are all in dress blues, no matter how impractical that is. But they can't really hold a ceremony down on the planet, so they are going to locate the remains of the Normandy, land in full battle armour to protect themselves from the hostile surroundings, place a memorial monument and see if there is anything left of their crew members to bring home to bury. There will be an official memorial service when they return, regardless of what they bring back. 

But this is for them. 

Kaidan contacted the “alien crew members” to tell them about their mission, but only Garrus was in a position to join them. Back at C-Sec, he had threatened to quit if his leave application wasn't approved. 

Liara told him she'd come to the official service. He hadn't heard back from Wrex or Tali before they left.

“It always looks peaceful in space,” Garrus says, joining them in the bridge.

“Up until the moment someone blows your ship from around you.” 

\- - -

“There, that's Alchera. I'll start scanning for the Normandy.”

“You really expect to find something?”

“Well, we were in orbit, and assuming she didn't break down to little pieces and burn in the atmosphere... There. Look at the screen... a large concentration of metal. That's my girl down there.”

“Okay, everyone suit up.”

It feels weird putting on the armour after so long, Kaidan thinks, even as his body goes through the motions automatically, the routine in his blood after all the years in service. He even carries a gun again, his shrink signing off on it trusting it to help him move on more than she fears he'll use it on himself.

That's one thing he's never even considered. He survived Brain camp. He'll survive losing Shepard, he has no doubt about it. He doesn't know how long it will take, he can't even see a day in the distant future where the pain won't be as acute as it is now, but he has no doubt it will come. One day. One year. 

He will not insult John's memory by throwing away the life he fought so hard to save. 

Joker pilots their shuttle himself, having deigned to don an armour with powered joints to aid his movement. The memorial statue is already on board, golden Normandy in flight, commissioned from a human artist. It's up to them to decide its placement. 

Kaidan bought a pair of rings. They're simple, thick, golden bands, and he had to guess Shepard's size, but he wanted... he wanted something personal to leave on the site. Something to honour the personal life of the galactic hero. 

He used way too much money on the gesture but he doesn't care. It's not like he'll starve. And it feels right, to leave a symbol of what might have been – what would have been – behind. 

If the others know what he's clutching in his hand as they land, no one says a word.

* * *

Okay, it's happened, Shepard decides. He's gone mad.

Because, for a moment, it sounded like... like a shuttle. A ship. Another vessel in flight somewhere outside.

But that had to be just his imagination, right? It's been weeks – months – his short range distress beacon has long since quietened down, and there's no reason for anyone to travel to this uninhabited corner of the universe.

Maybe he should go look, anyway. It would make a change for today, anyway. He's just been lying on his nest of torn blankets and pieces of cloth he has collected like a demented bird over the weeks to make into a bed.

Maybe a squirrel, not a bird. Squirrels have nests, right? Foxes don't. They just dig holes into the ground. But Alchera's ground is too hard for him to dig. What was he thinking about? Right, the voices. 

He reaches for his helmet, and gets up on his knees. Might as well go walk the perimeter again. 

He opens the door, and just as he thought, nothing has changed. The white snow covers the ground, the green and red aurorae fill the sky, and everything is quiet, except for the wind.

And then he walks around the Mako and comes to a standstill. 

He blinks. He shakes his head. He wants to wipe at his eyes but has enough presence of mind to realise he can't remove his helmet. No matter what he does, the shuttle refuses to disappear. 

There's a _shuttle_ on his yard. 

There are people standing next to the shuttle. And... did he fall asleep? The armour is green, and the shape of the body inside something he could draw eyes shut. 

It has to be a mirage. Because his brain refuses to class that shape as anything other than Kaidan.

If it's a dream, he'll go with it for now, just to feel Kaidan in his arms one more time. He takes a step towards the sight. 

* * *

Kaidan steps out of the shuttle, breath hitching. It's the Normandy all right. He had expected to see an empty field with maybe a few scattered remains, but the giant chunks of metal around them are awe-inspiring. 

It's a fitting grave marker for Shepard.

He turns around a slow circle, taking in the site, when movement catches his eye and he comes to a stop, one foot still up. 

His eyes are playing tricks with him, because that... that looks like the armour John was wearing the last day he saw him. Dented, of course, colour faded in some spots and... it's a mirage, isn't it?

And then it moves, _he_ moves, and Kaidan opens his mouth, to ask if the others are seeing what he's seeing and then Joker shouts and...

“Shepard?”

And he's running, if Joker can see it – him – then he's not alone in his insanity, and he can hear Anderson's sharp intake of breath, Adams cursing, Joker...

The hallucination is running, too. And then they meet, his hands coming up to feel the solid reality of the armour, and Shepard's – _Shepard's_ – hands come to rest on his arms, as if looking for support, and he meets the shocked eyes through their visors and...

“John...”

John is touching his helmet now, and he knows that gesture, he's fiddling with the comms, and...

“Kaidan...” his voice is hoarse, scratchy, like he's spent weeks alone in the ruins of the ship that was their home without talking to anyone and John, John...

“John,” he repeats, the only word he can come up with, and it's enough, it's everything, and they're resting their helmeted foreheads against each other, for the moment not even caring that they can't touch the skin beneath the armour.

His fingers go lax, and the rings fall into the snow. He looks down at them, and John follows his movements, turning to look as well. The light catches on them, metal shining against the snow, and almost on autopilot Kaidan lets go of John to kneel down to pick them up. 

He's on his knees, in front of John, holding their rings, and suddenly he's laughing, a joyful, crazy sound. Then John is kneeling next to him, arms around him, and they laugh and laugh and laugh.


End file.
